


my bonny lies o’er the ocean

by itainttreason



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M, Multi, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13967889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itainttreason/pseuds/itainttreason
Summary: After a mutiny nearly ends the promising life of privateer Benjamin Tallmadge, a chance encounter shakes him to his core.





	1. Marooned

“Now let’s shut that pretty mouth.”

Benjamin Tallmadge was standing stubbornly at the base of the plank, feet still planted firmly on the ship he had called home and country for months. He jabbed a bound elbow at the grinning Bradford behind him as Bradford attempted to bind his mouth shut with a grimy cloth. Bradford hissed as the elbow made contact, and he shoved at Ben, throwing him off-balance and sending him tumbling to his knees. The crew snickered, but Captain Lee raised his plaintive voice in a drawling reprimand.

“Bradford, the man is about to drown, leave him be.”

“Yes, Cap’n,” Bradford snapped, heaving Ben roughly back to his feet.

“Yes, Cap’n,” Ben mocked just loud enough for Bradford to hear, his lips wrought in a wry smile. The resulting punch nearly sent him overboard.

“BRADFORD.”

“Yes, Captain Lee!”

“Just get rid of him already, by God!”

An elbow in the back sent Ben shuffling onto the rickety plank. His bound arms made it difficult to balance, and fear started to grip him, trickling down his spine in a frigid sweat. The prospect of drowning was a grim one and it was terribly present now. He wasn’t ready to die.

A boot in the back sent him flailing and shouting into the water- what an ungainly death. He could imagine Lee’s angry wail. He figured it was better than any funeral band he could have scrounged up. His dying act, pissing off Lee and his puppet Bradford- it almost made it worth it. But now his lungs struggled, bubbles passing his vision, strings of pearls more precious to him than any loot he had privateered from the blasted British. 

A shape flickered behind the bubbles. He cursed. Not only was he to die by drowning, betrayed by the crew, but his body going to be eaten by a damn shark. Ben kicked fiercely at the approaching shape, but his foot went through water. He tried again- then once more- success! He felt flesh beneath his waterlogged boot. Satisfied, he closed his eyes, completing the black that had been edging at his vision. He had gone down fighting, and now he’d be at peace.

 

Caleb was very tempted to let this one drown. So very fucking tempted, he thought, dragging the limp sailor up to the surface. His face HURT. The man might've been drowning, but he packed a wicked kick. ‘Really ought to swim up behind them,’ he grumbled, brushing the hair from the man’s face to check for breath. Not finding any, he sighed and quickened his pace toward land. He’d give him five, ten minutes at most.

 

It was needless to say Ben was a bit surprised when his sand-crusted lids opened to see a scruffy face peering back at him. Ben was a man of faith, but he had his superstitions like any other sailor worth his salt, and his heart sank to feel sand beneath his freed fingers. The face in front of him was coming into focus with every waking second, and if this man wasn’t some kind of doomed pirate, he’d eat his boot. Well- if he still had any. He checked. He did not.

“Well?” The man spoke and his voice startled Ben.

“Well what?” he managed to rasp, hoarse from a dry, salty throat. He struggled to squint at his assailant.

“You gonna thank me or not?” Ben wondered how the man even managed to speak with such a thick beard. It bristled when he talked. It made him feel vaguely threatened.

“Thank you for?...”

“Saving your skin, you daft bastard.” 

Evidently it wasn’t only the beard that bristled.

“You mean to say-“

“-you’re not dead, yeah. Though I’m beginning to regret it. Damn ingrate.”

“You- you’re not giving me the opportunity to thank you!”

“I just did!”

“No you di-,” Ben took a deep, calming breath as he saw the other man’s mouth open to object. He could tell that arguing with his alleged savior would get them nowhere. “Thank you!” he blurted before the man could get a word in edgewise.

“There,” the stranger huffed after a sullen moment. “Was that so hard, Your Majesty?”

“Sure was, what with you talking over me.”

The glare directed at him almost made him lift his hand to his forehead to check for holes. That look could melt iron.

“Save a man’s life and this is the thanks I get? Keep it,” he growled dismissively, obviously ready to leave Ben alone on the sun-bleached strip of sand he had fished him onto in the first place.

“Hey!” Ben snapped, making the man reluctantly return his attention. “How can I give you proper thanks if I don’t even know your name?”

“……..Caleb.”

“That’s your name.”

“To you, yeah.”

“Well, Caleb- thanks for saving my life.” He extended a hand to Caleb, who switched to propping himself up with one elbow as he stretched out a hand to shake. “Benjamin Tallmadge, at your service.”

“You’re welcome, Benny.”

They spent a quiet moment in the dying sun, becoming familiar in each other’s company, but Ben couldn’t shake the dizzy feeling that something seemed terribly awry.

“Caleb, did you-,” he looked about the spit but he couldn’t see a boat. The closest land was a small rocky outcrop that was hardly swimming distance when you’re carrying dead weight- he turned to confront Caleb, but the man was already in the water, glaring at him from the safety of the waves. Ben was dumbfounded.

“Hey- hey! Come back! You can’t leave me here-“

“Can and will. Bye, Tallmadge!”

The last he thought he saw of Caleb that day was what looked like a fluke spinning its way back into the water. The amount of trouble his mind gave him over that was entertainment aplenty until he finally sank into a sand-filled slumber.


	2. ....And A Bottle of Rum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drink-loosened tongues only serve to confound, but one offers a tantalizing hint too good to pass up.

It took a month of badgering and far too many drinks than Abe (or his pocket) was comfortable with to get Ben to spill what had happened to him. He had returned in late September, squall at his back, his face burnt, lips chapped, mouth sealed tight, but now… Now Benjamin Tallmadge’s torso was sprawled over a rough-hewn table and he was speaking to Abe from the crook of his elbow. He was long past drunk. His free hand gesticulated like a bird that had just collided with a window- the motions were almost as drunk as he was.

“A whale, Abe.”

“A what?”

“It was a whale!”

“Yeah, got that, whale….but what about it?”

“What...what about what?”

“The whale! What about the whale?”

“..........what whale.”

“The whale you were just talkin’ about. That whale.”

“Wasn’t talkin’ about a whale-” in the time it took Ben to let out a slurred scoff, Abe interjected.

“Yes you were!”

“-was talkin’ about- oh, you don’t wanna hear it.”

“Fuck you, Tallmadge- what about the wha-”

“You don’t wanna-,” a hiccup, “-hear it! What you’re sayin’ is obviously...more important.”

Abe’s head punctuated Ben’s speech as he whacked it against the table in exasperation. Ben, amused by his antics, finally decided to continue with his story.

“If you’re done bein’ an ass-,” a glare from Abe, whose head was really starting to hate him, “-I wasn’t talkin’ about a whale. Was talkin’ about a man.”

Abe shook his aching head like a dog shedding water and immediately regretted it. He waited for his head to stop pounding before he insisted, “No you weren’t.”

“Was so.”

“No, Tallmadge, you- was it a whale or a man, Ben?”

Ben’s brows pulled themselves together like two glaciers intent on wrestling; very slowly, and with much confusion. His mouth opened, then closed. He looked to his drink, to the table, to Abe. His mouth opened again. He took a breath. Abe looked pained.

“...............yes.”

Two thuds and a groan told Ben that answer was horribly unsatisfactory. And that Abe was very close to knocking himself out, or giving himself brain damage, or both. Neither would be a surprise. 

“I saw a man, then I saw a whale.”

Abe’s head stayed on the table. It hurt too much to move.

“You saw a man, and a whale?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Could be some sort of phantom. Drowned sailor, maybe?”

“....don’t think so. He didn’t look drowned.”

“Shot? Marooned?”

“No.” 

“Maybe it was- John? Joseph?”

“Who?”

“That bloke who got swallowed by a whale.”

“Jonah?”

“Yeah!” Abe sat up at this, pointing at Ben wildly. “Yeah, that’s him!” He then leaned on his elbows to mutter conspiratorially, “Maybe God’s tryna warn you away from this privateer business.”

“What, by sending Jonah?”

“Sure!”

Ben struggled to recollect. “He said…” Abe went dead silent. “He said his name was Caleb, though.”

“Caleb.”

“Yeah.” Abe was obviously trying to scan his muddled head for stories, legends, anything that contained a Caleb. Ben figured he’d spare him the trouble. “He’s one of Moses’ spies, Abe. Don’t think God is sending me a spy.”

“No.” Abe fell quiet. Ben could almost see his mind working behind his forehead, which was wrinkled in thought. He decided to test his legs, and found that they worked well enough to stand. Abe watched him as he stood. “Goin to bed?”

“Yes. Don’t wake me too early.”

“No. I’ll save some breakfast for you.”

Ben clapped a hand on his shoulder, both in friendship and in seeking support for his legs. “Good man. Sleep well, Abe.” He smiled at the noncommittal grunt he got, then staggered his way upstairs to clumsily undress and flop into bed. He hoped for a dreamless sleep.

* * *

It was two weeks gone by before a whaler came in blubbering about some demon whale. He had some look about him, and everyone in the boarding house stopped for one breathless moment to hear what he had to say... then they passed it off as a madman’s ramblings and carried on, but Abe had his ear open as the man gratefully took a drink from Townsend and bounced nearly meaningless words off his politely impassive face. He took multiple trips when collecting used dishes off of tables so he could catch snippets without being caught. 

“White whale…hole in the ship…Whaleboats in pieces…”

"You're saying the whale attacked you?" Townsend was bristling with disbelief, Abe could see it, but the man's nerves were so frayed he couldn't sense even Townsend's blatant disinterest. Abe knew that scenario all too well. But back to the point- to the whale, Woodhull!  
Abe nudged closer to hear what the whaler was saying- he had lowered his voice. He was halfway through describing an odd white flash in the water when Townsend interrupted. "Woodhull, there are tables that need your attention."

"But Robert, the-"

"Later."

Abe opened his mouth to protest, but Townsend had moved his attention back to the whaler, who had been talking through their interaction. Abe shuffled off, but not before he caught one word that almost sent him sprinting out the door.

"-siren!"

* * *

"Townsend's not letting you drink on the job now, is he?"

"No- I- ha- well- no, listen-," Abe panted, bent double and clutching his knees. He had run from the boarding house at the end of his shift straight up to Ben's lodgings, and that course included three flights of stairs and a hill. "Didja hear what I said?!"

"Yeah, something about mermaids, sirens- you're a bit jumbled, Abe."

"Yeah!" he puffed insistently. "Sirens! I'm thinkin' that, hooooh, that your Caleb is some sorta siren, y'know?"

"First of all, he's not "my Caleb," and second of all- sirens aren't real, Woody."

"But you said-"

"I'm sure it was some sort of hallucination, alright? A mirage conjured up by the heat and the lack of food and water. He wasn't a siren."

Abe was now splayed over a chair that he had mustered the strength to pull up. "But what if he /was,/ Ben?"

"Then I'm lucky to be alive. Twice lucky, in fact."

Abe grunted in agreement, resting his chin on the wooden back of the chair and letting his eyes close.

"Hey- no falling asleep, Abe, you need to be back at the boarding house by curfew." Ben got no response. "You'll have to beg Townsend to let you in again." Abe raised his head then, letting the thought register, then was off like a shot, cheeks aflame. In his hurry he left his coat, but Ben would drop it off at the boarding house the next day. Once Woodhull was gone, he was far gone, so there was no use in calling him back now. Instead Ben readied himself for bed, mulling over what Abe had told him until he drifted off into sleep.


	3. A Wondrous Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anna loves mary. mary loves anna. abe loves robert. robert.... has not decided (robert loves abe)

Ben was perusing the greens at the market, frowning at the price of cabbage, when he was hailed by a voice over his shoulder. He turned with a smile to see Mary striding towards him, loose pants swishing as she drove her shorter legs to maximum speed. She was beaming, loose wisps of hair floating about her face, boots clicking across the cobbles. She too was a pirate, part of a notorious crew of women aboard the Black Petticoat, captained by a certain Peggy Shippen- the most beautiful and the most deadly woman on the seven seas. Mary, being the most unassuming with her sweet, motherly face, had taken down many men in her time. She had almost gotten Ben himself, once.

"Benjamin, good to see you back."

"Hey, Mary! You heard?"

"About Lee and his cowardice? Oh, for sure. Everyone knows now. Never trusted that weasel."

Ben laughed, shaking his head good-naturedly. "Ah, well. I'm alive, aren't I?"

"He won't be, next time I get my hands on him." Mary may have been smiling, but her eyes were pure hellfire.

"I don't doubt that for a moment." Charles Lee was a dead man walking. Mary's temper was not one easily riled, but when she latched on to something not even the devil himself could stop her. 

"How's the crew?"

Mary swelled with pride. "We’ve got ourselves a new sister."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Her name's Abigail. Her son came too- Cicero- he's going to be helping around the ship, I think Peggy's going to have him be cabin boy until he's ready to leave the nest, if he’d like. He's a nice boy, very polite- well read, too."

"I'm sure he'll be a great fit."

"He's doing very well already."

Their conversation drifted into a comfortable silence, and Ben turned back to the produce, handling an apple to check for bruises. Mary cleared her throat after a minute.

"Something bothering you, Ben?"

Ben paused, his hand with the apple hovering over the bin before he spoke, replacing the apple and turning back to her. His brow was drawn and he spoke slowly, as if in disbelief that the words were leaving his mouth. "Do you believe in sirens, Mary? Mermaids?"

Mary made a face. "I've never seen one. Why do you ask?"

Ben shook his head, looking away, smiling in a way he hoped would deflect further questions. "Nevermind, that was a silly question-"

"Why do you ask?"

"Mary-"

She was staring him down. It was obvious that she wasn't going to let it rest. He returned the stare stubbornly for a moment before he caved and nodded towards the nearby tavern. 

They found seats in a fairly secluded alcove in the back, then leaned towards each other conspiratorially. "I think....," Ben hesitated. He himself could hardly believe what he was about to say- why would Mary? "....I think I've seen one."

"A mermaid?" Mary's face was solemn, but wonder flickered in her gaze. She knew Benjamin to be an honest man, so he was either telling the truth or mad. Or both.

"No- not a mermaid, per se- it was a man."

"So...merman?"

"Maybe, but...have you ever heard of a merman with the tail of a whale?"

"A...a whale?" Now Mary was concerned. Ben had been alone on a sunbaked island in the Caribbean- maybe he had seen a mirage.

"Yeah." Ben head drooped so she could see the top of his head, gold hair gleaming dully in the light of the window of the tavern. He was looking at his hands. "Mary, I don't know what I saw." He sounded defeated.

It was a long moment before Mary spoke. "Have you ever doubted your eyes before?" she asked, voice laden with determination.

"No," he replied, risking a glance at her.

"Then you know what you saw. You saw a whale-tailed merman, and you may be mad but at least you know that."

".....He said his name was Caleb."

"He spoke to you?!"

"He yelled at me."

"Oh, stop sulking, I'm sure you deserved it." A new voice entered the conversation- Anna had caught the tail end of their conversation and had scooted to press knee to shoulder with Mary. She pressed a quick kiss to Mary's temple. "Hello, love." They were both smiling. It was always good when someone you loved was back ashore, always good when they were back in your arms. "Any success?"

"Plenty." Mary was beaming, and Ben realized he had forgotten to ask of their endeavors in his hurry to be heard. He mentally chastised himself before tuning back in.

"....three ships, no casualties. Philomena, Martha, and Annabelle were injured, but with rest they'll be just fine." Mary was glowing with pride, and Anna was grinning from ear to ear.

"That's my girl!" Anna laughed, kissing Mary's cheek, her lips bumping against Mary's dimples as she laughed. Ben smiled and stood.

"I'll leave you two to it- Mary, thanks for hearing me out."

"We'll find your mystery man, Ben. Just you wait." Ben waved to them and stepped out into the street. He knew he potentially had a clue, but he was reluctant to follow it. He himself was in no condition to talk about his experiences when he had first gotten back, so he couldn't imagine returning from a catastrophic whaling mission with only your life and then being harassed by some young ass trying to find some mythical beast....He was making excuses. Frankly- he was afraid of disappointment. He was afraid of putting in effort and it not paying off. Mermaids and- and whatever Caleb potentially was- did not exist. Or at least he thought they didn't...until now... 

 

He shook himself, reorganizing his thoughts. He'd be in bed with an empty belly if he didn't scrounge up some dinner soon. His feet led him to the boarding house, and his mind mumbled over his belly grumble, _Two birds with one stone_. He ducked into the boarding house owned by the Townsends and he was greeted with a cheery atmosphere, with people discussing the events of the day and filling their empty stomachs on Samuel Townsend’s cooking. The man was a fixture in the old whaling town and there wasn't a person living who could resist when faced with his food. It was wholesome and hearty, just like the man himself. 

Ben was about to slide inconspicuously into a booth that he used frequently when he was accosted by a fatherly hand on his shoulder and a voice that you could hear the smile in. “Benjamin Tallmadge, as I live and breathe! Back from the dead, eh?”

Ben turned, smiling. “Hello, Mr. Townsend. Seems that it wasn't my time yet.”

“Thank the Lord for that,” Samuel said, solemn for a moment. 

“I did. I do.”

“There's a good man,” he said, clapping his shoulder lightly before settling slowly down into the seat across from him. There was a moment of comfortable silence before Ben realized his face had fallen. Samuel noticed it a moment after Ben did, asking gently, “Something wrong, Tallmadge?”

Ben shook his head. “No, just keeping an eye out for a friend of mine.” He hated lying, never mind to Samuel Townsend, but he was tired and he didn't want to tell the whole take over again. He had had enough of incredulous reactions today, thank you very much.

“Are you looking for Woodhull? Last time I saw him the poor boy was getting chewed out by Robert.”

“Oh yeah? What for?”

“I didn't stay to listen. Robert was raising his voice- it was the first time I had heard him raise his voice in twenty-odd years.” His brow was furrowed with concern- he hated when his son and and Abe fought. “Must be something serious.”

“You know Abe, he's probably been getting under Robert’s skin about something all day.”

The worried frown relaxed on Samuel’s face until it could almost be a smile. “You’re right. He is a tenacious little fellow.”

Ben smiled again in agreement and the silence settled comfortably around them, sprinkled with odd words and phrases from the surrounding conversations. Eventually Samuel thumped the table and stood. “Have you eaten, Benjamin?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Let me get something for you. Some chicken, potatoes?”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you, Mr. Townsend.”

“It's my pleasure. I’ll send Abraham with it, see if I can get him out of some hot water. Hope you find your friend!”

“I appreciate that, Samuel. Thank you again.”

Samuel waved him away good-naturedly and soon disappeared into the back where the kitchens were. Ben rubbed his eyes and yawned, jaw cracking- the day was starting to get to him. Just as his eyes blinked clear of the gummy haziness that rubbing them had left, a man walked into the dining room and sat heavily at one of the tables. A matted mane of dark hair inhabited his head, a damp fleshy pucker where his left eye used to be. His clothes were crusted with salt and his scowl looked as though it would curdle milk. An older, mangier dog Benjamin had never seen. Whalers often looked unsavory, but this man looked as though his sinews had been salted and dried at sea. So the look of fear in his eye, in his manner, did not match up. This was a man who, by the looks of him, could kill anyone in the room- so why did he look like he’d seen the devil with his one good eye? The eye that was now fixed on him? 

“Did you lose something over here, boy?” The heavily accented rumble rolled over Ben with a quiet deadliness, like the report of thunder heralding a massive storm.

“I- no, sir.”

“Then why are you staring, eh?”

“Well, sir, I was just wondering about the-”

“The whale?”

Ben breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, I was wondering about the whale- could you-”

“No.”

“But-”

“Boy, I would just as soon kill you before I have to talk about that bloody whale one more time.”

Ben gaped for a second before remembering his manners. “I’m sorry, sir- I didn’t even ask your name.”

“Robert Rogers,” drawled the man across from him. He stood, head tilting ominously as he took Ben in. “And don’t you forget it, boy.”

“I won’t, sir.” 

“Good! Now get yourself a drink to shut that nosy trap of yours, and you’ll do fine,” Rogers growled, sauntering past Ben to climb the stairs of the inn to retire. Another irritated face was in Ben’s line of sight before he could even blink.

“Tallmadge.” His name came as an impatient order from Robert Townsend, who was holding out Ben’s drink for him to take, his other hand holding a loaded plate.

“Sorry, Townsend,” he mumbled as he took them both, “thank you.”

“The total comes to two shilling, four pence.”

“Yeah, alright.” Ben dug in his pocket to retrieve the change. Townsend watched him, his lips pressed into a tight line. It was obvious that he had something else to say, but was politely refraining. 

“Something else, Robert?” Ben asked, looking from Townsend to his food then back again. He was faced with stone-faced silence, until finally the facade showed a small crack.

“Your friend, Woodhull.” Ben braced himself. Townsend’s normally passive voice simmered. “You need to talk some sense into him, or I’ll be forced to let him go.”

“What did he do this time?” Resignation was a common factor when Abe was being discussed, and it weighed Ben’s voice heavily. It took the stiff moment of silence for Ben to look up and notice the angry blush on Townsend’s face.

“....He tried to-,” he was interrupted by a red-faced Abe clattering out of the kitchen, followed by a bewildered Samuel. Abe took one look at them talking and bolted, letting the door slam on his way out. Robert shifted uncomfortably, watching the door, but he was never one to dance around a topic that needed addressing. Turning back to Ben, he grumbled flatly, “He tried to kiss me, and I told him I wouldn’t have anything so unprofessional, and he’s been miserable ever since. I had no idea a single person was capable of moping to the extent he has been.”

Ben was impressed. He had originally thought Abe couldn’t have found anyone more hard-headed than he was, but here Robert was. He was also incredibly impressed at how tolerant Robert must have been. He and Mary could only withstand so much legendary Woodhull moping before they were forced to snap him out of it. Ben shook his head, amazed. “That does sound like Abe. I’ll talk to him, don’t worry- he’ll come around.”

“I certainly hope so. He’s a wreck at the moment.”

“More than usual?”

Robert cracked a small smile. It then was very obvious to Ben that he was at his wit’s end, to have been amused by that. “Yes, more than usual. Enjoy your meal, Benjamin.”

“I will, it smells delicious,” Ben said with relief, poking at the now-lukewarm food before him. As Robert turned to resume his regular service, Ben perked up. “Robert!”

“Yes?” Townsend said, looking back over his shoulder and down at Ben, praying for a swift exit.

“That whaler, the unsavory character that was just at the table by you?”

“Yes, what about him?”

“Did he happen to mention where he was whaling at the time?”

“Off the coast of Chile, I believe. Now, will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you, Townsend.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ben spent the next hour idling over his food, nursing his drink, and thinking deeply. So deeply, in fact, it took a long, well-aimed glare from Robert and a few kind words from Samuel for him to notice that it was well past closing time. Samuel’s fatherly hand helped him out of the inn and Robert’s polite goodnight was the last sound Ben heard before the door shut and his boots shuffled on cobblestones. He was pleased. Today had been productive. He knew Caleb’s vague whereabouts, he had gotten dinner, and he could start to fix the newest rift between Robert and Abe. He mulled over his options as he ambled back to his room, climbing the rickety stairs in the dark and finally locking his door behind him. After he was satisfied Abe wouldn't be visiting him today- his coat had vanished from the chair back where Ben had left it the night before, he had most likely - he undressed, said his nightly prayers, and settled in for the night. He'd scout for a ship tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tag yourself im samuel townsend

**Author's Note:**

> this has been a brainchild of a few people and a few years in the making. hope you enjoy it- i PROMISE there will be more. take care of my baby :')


End file.
